


Walls Under Construction

by kelex



Category: Supernatural, Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He gave her the blocks to build the walls and he's the only one who can break them down.  Possible spoilers for the <i>Veronica Mars</i> pilot, and for the <i>Supernatural</i> episodes <i>Devil's Trap</i> and <i>In My Time of Dying</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walls Under Construction

The little blonde girl-- _Christ, what is she, thirteen?_ \--was barefoot, shoes in her hand as she walked across the street. She didn't look up at him when he called out, just stopping in her tracks. He half expected her to vanish, but his hand encountered warm flesh when he touched her shoulder. "Hey," he said again, more quietly this time. 

She flinched away, pulling in on herself. "Leave me alone."

"Hey. I'm not gonna hurt you," John said quietly. "What's your name?" He moved her long hair over her shoulder, and was shocked to see hollow eyes and mascara smudged with tear tracks down her cheeks.

"Veronica," she answered dully. "Veronica Mars."

"Well, Veronica, my name's John." He took off the battered leather jacket he was wearing and wrapped it around her shoulders. He looked to see where she'd been coming from and saw the sheriff's station, and then looked at her face again. "C'mon. Let me take you home, you look--"

He didn't get a chance to finish because the little girl burst into tears. "I can't go home. My Dad, he'll kill people if he finds out what happened," she choked out. "He told me not to go to the party, but I went anyway..."

John swore softly, every protective instinct he owned flaring up. Wasn't the hunt about protecting people, too? Helping them? "All right, let's get in the truck." When she didn't move, John put his hands on her shoulders, swallowed up as they were by his jacket. He helped her into the truck, and then got in.

His EMF detector was going insane, but he was certain that there was no way it could be reacting to Veronica. Her absolute refusal to go home took her out of every hitchhiker story, she was far too young to be a weeping woman, and she was too coherent to be any kind of death omen. 

John just put the meter under the seat, silencing it for the moment as he looked over at Veronica. She was huddled against the door, engulfed totally in his jacket and still shivering. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

"I went to a party that I shouldn't have," she said after a long moment. "Lilly tried to warn me, too, but I had to go. Had to prove that I was still just as good as they were, that nobody could keep Veronica Mars down." She started crying again. "I guess I really showed them, huh? And when I told the Sheriff what happened, he wouldn't even listen, wouldn't do a rape kit, nothing. Just told me to get out, because I couldn't remember anything." 

John's jaw tightened with a near-audible click. This was why he was glad to have two boys; Dean and Sammy could take care of themselves, and each other. "Who's Lilly, honey?" he asked calmly, clenching his hands angrily on the wheel. 

"My best friend," Veronica answered, rubbing her cheek against his jacket to dry it off.

"You want me to take you to her house?" he offered, eyes scanning the highway for a fast food joint.

"No. Her... her family doesn't like me very much. I used to date her brother, and Mrs. Kane, she just... hates me." She curled up tighter, and didn't say anything else.

"Okay, honey," he said quietly. "Try closing your eyes. You look like you could use some sleep," he suggested, reaching over and fluffing his jacket around her shoulders. 

"Okay." She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead, just crossed her arms over her chest, his too-big sleeves flapping around her as she tucked into a small ball against the door, all brown jacket and blonde hair.

He finally spied a burger place, and ordered enough for both of them to have dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning, and wondered when he decided he was going to keep her. He shook his head as he pulled into the parking lot of the Camelot motel, parking in front of the room he'd rented for the night. He didn't want to shake her awake, so he went quietly to the other side of the truck, lifting her into his arms and carrying her up to the door. 

She weighed almost nothing as he tucked her against his chest, and it was easy to use one hand to unlock the door. He pushed it all the way open with his hip, and laid her down carefully on the bed. The ugly brown comforter was folded over the foot of the bed, and he made sure she was covered up with it before going back out to the truck for his duffel bag, the food, and the rest of his things. 

He wasn't going to wake her up until she woke up herself, so he sat in the chair by her bed, table yanked close enough for his laptop propped his feet up. He dialed the cell quietly, and put it to his ear. "Dean. Yeah, it's me. Look, you go on and take that job in Laramie. Something's come up. I'll call you later." He closed the phone quickly and tossed it on the table, pulling the computer towards him. 

=====

It hadn't taken John long at all to find out the whole story; he hadn't even had to look very hard. The local newspaper websites were still harping on the trial and conviction of a man named Abel Koontz, complete with neatly cross-referenced hyperlinks to previous articles that unraveled the whole Lilly Kane murder.

Found murdered by her family's swimming pool, investigated by Veronica's father, the then-sheriff. Kane man was a suspect, public outrage forced a recall, the new sheriff found new evidence, and a new suspect who confessed, was convicted, and sent to prison. He filled the rest in himself; Veronica had been ostracized by her friends just as her father had been by their parents. And kids could be so much more cruel than adults; he kind of admired Veronica's spunk for trying to go to the party in the first place even as every paternal instinct he had screamed it was a bad idea.

And she'd been date-raped. He was sure of it; she'd been too shell-shocked to lie and her appearance pretty much proved it. 

He pondered calling Keith Mars himself and telling him anonymously what happened to his daughter, but it wasn't his place. He just pushed the computer back, rubbing his eyes and watching Veronica sleep. 

The only thing that really bothered him--well, outside of everything--was the EMF detector. It still went off randomly, and John didn't dare lay down salt lines or charms to protect them. Veronica had mentioned Lilly talking to her, recently in fact, and he wondered if it was actually the girl's ghost or something else masquerading as the dead girl. 

He was mentally composing a list of questions for Veronica when his concentration was shattered by crying. He hadn't even noticed Veronica waking up, but as soon as he heard the crying, he moved over to the bed. "Veronica?"

"Please leave me alone," she sobbed. "I just..."

"I know," John said sincerely. "My wife... she died. In a fire. Years ago. I can't... I can't imagine what you're feeling, but maybe I can relate, just a little bit. If you let it, it can kill you from the inside out. You forget how to love, you forget what it feels like to be loved, and you just become this huge gaping black hole of nothingness. You shove away the people close to you, wrap yourself in a big curtain of pain until you're ready to kill someone or die trying."

That just made Veronica cry even harder, and John held out his arms. After a pause, Veronica crawled into them. John held her close, stroking her hair and trying to rock her soothingly. It was okay to be paternal to Veronica because she wasn't his; in a few days he'd leave, she'd be fine, and that would be the end of it. No yellow-eyed demon would be haunting her dreams, because she already had a truckload. "You hun--"

Veronica's cellphone interrupted John's question, and she picked it up. "Hello? Hey, Dad. No, I'm fine. Just watching _Titanic_ , you know me. Jack and Rose get me sobbing every time." The smile in her voice didn't reach her face. "Me and Backup are fine. What? A week? Yeah, we'll be okay." Another pause. "No, I didn't go to Shelley Pomroy's party." More quiet. "Yeah, I promise I'm fine. It's just the movie. Don't worry, I got _Young Frankenstein_ too. Yeah, I love you too, Dad. Bye."

John frowned as she hung up the phone. "Dad's out of town?"

"Yeah, he's a private investigator, he's tracking a bailjumper in Louisiana, and he'll be gone the rest of the week." Veronica had pretty much stopped crying as she'd talked to her father on the phone.

John made a split-second decision. "Then you're gonna stay here until he gets back," he decided. "It's probably not safe for you to be alone."

"Okay," she said, without argument. "Can I go home and get clothes?"

"Yeah, I'll take you. Pack enough for a week, whatever you need, and leave out enough food and water for... who is Backup?"

"Our dog," she sniffled. "He's a pit bull. Dad named him."

* _Smart man,_ * John thought to himself. Very few people would fuck with anyone protected by a pit bull, and a young girl like Veronica obviously needed the protection. "Okay. You hungry? I got dinner if you want it," he said, nodding to the Big Kahuna bags on the table.

"Maybe later," she said, scrubbing her arms unconsciously. "I need.... I feel... I gotta shower."

"How about you shower and change at your place," John said gently. "Nothing I've got is gonna fit you. And I know you don't want to put that dress back on after you're out of it."

Veronica shuddered. She knew he was right, but she hated it. "Let's go now."

"Okay," John agreed, picking up his jacket and offering it to her again. "But you gotta tell me about Lilly."

Veronica took the jacket gratefully and wrapped herself up in it like a shield. "Anything you want to know."

=====

By the time they got to Veronica's apartment, John was positive that Veronica was being haunted by her best friend's ghost. Not maliciously; it was rare but not unheard of for a ghost to try and protect a loved one, and Veronica obviously considered Lilly a sister.

"You want to come in?" Veronica asked when John stopped the truck. "Dad's probably got something to drink in the fridge,"

He just shook his head no. "I'll wait for you here, honey," he said softly. "Be careful, all right?"

"Definitely," she agreed, and gave him the first hint of a smile she'd shown since he met her. "I won't be long, okay?"

"Take your time," John reassured her. "I'll be out here."

"Okay." Veronica slammed the door shut. "Be back soon."

John watched her disappear into the complex, and leaned his head back against the headrest. It bothered him greatly, the whole situation did, but there was no way in hell that he was going to leave this girl alone after what happened to her. She was gone nearly half an hour, and John was starting to think she wasn't coming back. 

But her head appeared around the corner, a bag almost as big as herself over her shoulder. She had dressed in layers, John's jacket over a sweatshirt jacket over a hoodie over a turtleneck, jeans and black boots, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Almost a different girl than the one who'd gotten out, John leaned over and opened the door for her.

Without a word, Veronica handed over her bag and swung herself up into the truck. John steadied her with a hand to the shoulder, and gave her a little smile. "All set?"

"Yeah. Sorry I took so long, but I had to clean up a little present from Backup. So I took him out and let him do his business and one of the neighbors will let him out while I'm at school."

"You're not going to school," John said firmly, putting the truck back into gear. "Not 'til I've shown you a few things, anyway."

"But I have to go!" She couldn't quite look John in the eye, and she wrapped his jacket around herself even tighter. "Too many questions, plus they'll call my dad."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight, Veronica!" John glared at her. "Too many things could happen to you and I'm gonna make sure you know a few tricks so you don't get hurt again."

Veronica huffed. "I can't stay out a whole week, Mr. Winchester."

"John," he corrected. "Christ, you sound like Sammy. Can you please just... trust me? I haven't turned you wrong yet and I'm not gonna. I'll take care of the school, don't worry."

Veronica bit her lip and cringed just a little when John raised his voice. "I'm sorry. I trust you, I do."

John sighed at the flinch. "Veronica... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper, okay? I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not mad at you, okay?" He held his arm out patiently across the seat.

"Okay," she said after a moment, sliding across the seat to hide against his side.

* _Smooth move, Winchester*_ , John chided himself. _*She's not Sam and you can't bellow at her like that.*_ "Good," he said quietly, letting Veronica stay tucked closely beside him. "You're gonna be okay, Veronica. I promise."

=====

He told her to eat as soon as they got back to the motel; Veronica went into the room while John went to the desk and paid for the room until the end of the week. When he got back to the room, Veronica was sitting on the edge of the bed, one foot tucked under her as she poked at one of the re-heated cheeseburgers. "Not hungry?"

Veronica shook her head. "No, not really."

"Try," he said unnecessarily, watching her take small bites. "Just don't force it."

She nodded, still nibbling at the sandwich and managing to get half of it down while John scarfed three. 

While she was eating, John was watching her carefully, trying to gauge where to start. With her size, hand to hand was an entirely laughable idea, at least, the kind of combat he knew. But... "You know how to use a gun?"

Veronica nearly choked on her burger, and John had to pound her on the back to help clear her airway. "Like a stun gun?"

"No, like a real gun." John reached around to the small of his back, and pulled out a loaded nine millimeter.

Veronica's eyes went wide. She'd seen her father's service revolver a hundred times, holstered and locked up in a gun safe, but she'd never been allowed to touch it. Even now, Keith's private firearm was locked in a gun box, which was in turn locked up in the office safe. "No, never."

With experienced motions, John de-chambered the ready round, popped out the clip, and handed Veronica the empty gun. "Nine millimeter. Standard caliber handgun, fires hollow-point rounds loaded into a clip. Depending on the gun, the clip can hold up to nineteen rounds and one in the chamber. This one's a Browning, it holds thirteen rounds in the clip. Safety's right here at your thumb; if the safety's on, the gun won't fire. Flick the safety off, cock the hammer back, pull the trigger." The hammer fell on an empty chamber, and he passed the gun over to Veronica.

Which Veronica refused to take. "You've got to be kidding me! There's no chance I could ever shoot anybody!!"

John just held the gun out steadily. "You won't have to use it. If you look like you know how, most people you'll run up against won't want to find out if you really do. And if they do make you shoot, shoot in the air. That'll get attention on you real fast, and you still won't have to shoot anybody."

"My father used to be the sheriff, and he always said you better not pull a gun unless you're ready to use it." Veronica looked everywhere but at the gun in John's hand.

"He's not wrong," John admitted. "But that still doesn't mean you have to shoot anyone. Just be able to pull the trigger."

"That's the same thing," Veronica said with a shiver. "Pulling the trigger on a gun means someone is going to get shot, and I just... can't."

John kept his gaze and voice steady. "What if it were the difference between getting raped again, and not?" When she flinched violently, John knew he'd struck deep. "I'm trying to give you a way to protect yourself, Veronica. To make sure nothing and nobody can hurt you again."

Veronica swallowed hard, then reached out and took the gun. John's fingers closed around hers to adjust her grip on the butt, and she couldn't meet his eyes.

=====

After an hour, John was pleased with Veronica's progress. She was holding the gun comfortably, if not cautiously, and she was able to engage and disengage the safety with the flick of her thumb. "That's enough for now. We'll work a little more tonight," John declared. "Tomorrow we'll find a shooting range and I'll show you how to work the clip."

She gave him the gun back gladly. "I am so not a gun person."

That actually made John laugh. "No, you're definitely not." He slammed the clip home easily, made sure the safety was on, and tucked the gun back into his waistband against his back. "Honestly, I'd be worried if you were."

"I don't ever want to be a gun person," she clarified. "They scare me."

"Good," John said. "That means you'll always give firearms the respect they deserve." He studied Veronica carefully. "You think you'd do better with a knife?"

"Like a pocketknife?"

He laughed again. "Like a blackjack, baby. Or a switchblade. A butterfly. Something like that."

Veronica considered. "I think I could handle a knife," she mused.

John reached out, measuring his hand against Veronica's. She reached out to meet him, palms pressed tightly against each other. She moved to hold his hand, squeezing it tightly as she smiled at him.

=====

The sleeping arrangements hadn't even been a question. The room had a full-size bed, big enough for the both of them and then some, but John had no intention of sleeping in it. Instead, he did exactly what he'd done before during her nap and pulled one of the chairs back over by the bed. 

Veronica had curled up on the far side of the bed, fully dressed and expecting John to get in on the other side. When he didn't, she gave him a quizzical look. "You can't sleep in the chair," she insisted.

"Yeah, I can," he countered. "And I'm going to. There's no way I'm going to get in that bed as long as you're in it." That's just the way it worked in John's mind, and he wasn't changing it. He took one of the pillows off the bed and tucked it behind his neck, and then spread one of the blankets over his legs as he propped his feet on the empty side of the bed. "Night, Veronica."

"Goodnight, John." Veronica curled up in a tight little ball, pulled the sheet and bedspread up over her head, and reached up to switch off the lamp. The Veronica-shaped lump didn't move after that, and John took the remote off the bedside table and started to channel surf.

At some point in the night, John must've fallen asleep, because he jerked awake. The lights were off, and the TV was on, but it took him several seconds to adjust and realize what startled him. Veronica had moved, maybe to go to the bathroom because he still heard water in the pipes. But instead of getting back in bed, she was climbing into his lap.

He moved to push her off, but when the light from the television played over Veronica's face, he pulled her in tightly against his chest. Fresh tear tracks stiffened her cheeks, and she still sniffled quietly against him. After nearly an hour of silence, John gathered Veronica in his arms and moved to tuck her into bed. "No," came the sleepy plea. "Please."

"Veronica," he said warningly.

"Please? I trust you, John. You make me feel safe." Her arms stayed tight around his neck. "I'm not afraid to go to sleep with you."

His protests of *it's not right* and *I can't* died in his throat as Veronica's arms clung to him. "Okay, baby," he reassured her quietly. "I'll keep you safe if it's the last thing I do." Despite the hunting, John knew he was pathetically short on good days and good deeds, and protecting Veronica was his way of making up for it. 

Keeping her close, John stood up and moved over to the bed, sitting down and swinging his legs into bed as he kept Veronica in his lap. He pulled the blanket up over Veronica's shoulders and sighed softly when she snuggled against him. "Sweet dreams, Veronica."

"Night, John."

=====

John woke up to the local morning show. It was just barely after eight, still early, but for John it was late. Veronica was still curled up tightly against him, but her face was dry and she was breathing easily. 

After they'd moved to the bed in the night, neither John nor Veronica had woken up again. His neck was slightly stiff from having slept against the headboard, but otherwise he felt well-rested. Carefully he eased Veronica onto the bed and climbed out, stretching. He grimaced at the twinge of stiffness in his neck, shoulder, and groin, then moved over to the dresser. His duffel was sitting open in the top drawer and he dug out clean clothes. 

A quick look over his shoulder showed Veronica still sleeping, so he took the quiet moment to duck into the shower. He leaned his head against the wall as he almost mechanically jacked himself off, then washed his body quickly. He checked his reflection in the mirror, running a tired hand over the stubble on his face before getting dressed, dog tags first, t-shirt and jeans, overshirt and boots and watch. By the time he came out, Veronica was awake and clutching the pillow John had slept on to her chest.

The decrepit coffeepot was brewing, which meant Veronica had filled it up in the bathroom sink and he hadn't even noticed. That bothered him. "How you feeling this morning?"

Veronica seemed to seriously consider that question. "I don't... I'm not as sore. As I was. The headache's mostly gone, and I'm not tired. I'm sorry, about yesterday. I... wasn't myself."

John crossed his arms over his chest. "Veronica, it's okay. You--"

She cut him off. "No, it's not okay. You're right; I have to learn to protect myself, and to do that, I can't be that weepy, pathetic little girl. I'm just a few days away from seventeen, and I have to start acting like it."

That made John frown. "You're not pathetic, Veronica," he pointed out. "You've been pretty traumatized."

"I have been. I've been wallowing and crying ever since Lilly was murdered, and it didn't do anything but get me drugged and raped at a party of people who used to be my friends. I don't know why you picked me up, but I'm glad."

John's frown deepened, because he knew the meaning behind the words and he wasn't sure he liked them. But he understood, in a way he knew no one else in this town could. "You're a good kid, Veronica. I'm still gonna look out for you as long as I'm here."

She nodded her agreement, the tight clutch of the pillow belying the hard bravado of her words. "And you're gonna show me how to look out for myself after you're gone?"

"That's the plan," John agreed.

"Then let's get started."

=====

Veronica's reticence to handle a gun didn't get in the way of her determination to learn. John had emptied the clip and given it to her to practice with, and by lunchtime, she could load the clip into the gun without fumbling. Slam, lock, rack, hammer. Slam, lock, rack, hammer. 

"Not bad, baby," John said over lunch, giving her a smile as she scarfed down the last of her chicken strip dinner, and started in on the coleslaw. "Only person I've seen handle a gun better on the first day's Sammy."

"Who's Sammy?"

John smiled again, but it was a sad smile. "Sammy's my son. Sam, now. Stanford pre-law program. Smart like you wouldn't believe... handsome kid, too. Stubborn as hell though, like his old man. Can't stand bein' ordered around... you'd like him. Dean, too, though most of the girls like him better cause of that leather jacket."

She smiled genuinely as she listened to John talk about his kids. "Sounds like you got a couple of great boys, John. You said Sam's at Stanford?"

"Yeah, he is. Didn't want to get into the family business. We had a pretty big fight about it, Sammy left, and I really haven't heard from him since. I keep tabs on him to make sure he's alright, me and Dean both do, but it's not the same as having him here to protect."

Veronica studied John in silence for many long minutes. "Wow," she finally said. "Musta been one hell of a big fight."

"It was," John admitted. "And I'm not proud of myself, but I know I was right."

"I can't imagine anything, any fight, that'd make me leave my Dad. Mom left us, and even before she did, she was drunk, so it's been me and Dad, pretty much, for awhile now. And the thought of leaving him over anything just doesn't register with me cause I know how much he loves me. And I can tell you love Sammy. So I just can't imagine the fight."

John shook his head. "My wife died not long after Sammy was born. It was just us, me and the boys, growing up, and I was always working. So I don't know that Sam ever really knew that I loved him and wanted to keep him safe."

Veronica smiled sadly. "I wish I believed my mom felt like that." A shake of her head to clear it. "Enough feeling sorry for myself. Ever forward." She finished her soda with a rattle of ice. "What's on the agenda for tonight?"

"A couple more hours with the gun, then we'll find a good balisong for you, see if you still think you're a knife girl."

"I'm so way more a knife girl than a gun girl," she said with conviction. "Although I'll never quite get used to the gun in my hand."

"Good," John said firmly. "If you got used to it, I'd be worried, like I told you yesterday. I want you to be familiar, not comfortable."

"Got it. Familiar, not comfortable. Comfort is bad."

"No." John leaned across the table. "Comfortable is me. Comfortable is not being able to sleep without a gun or a knife under your pillow or in your pants. That's not the kind of life I want for anybody, but especially not my kids and not you."

The loud whirring of the motel room's AC unit faded to a dull hum in Veronica's ears as John leaned across the rickety table. The KFC trash hit the floor but she didn't even notice as she was caught up in John's intensity. 

"Believe me, Veronica," he said softly. "I've been there. I live that life everyday and it's not anything romantic or breath-taking. It's hard, and painful, and dirty. It will strip you of everything that makes you human."

Veronica's eyes burned as she didn't dare to break their connection by blinking. "Not everything," she pointed out in a whisper. "Because I'm here. You took pity on me when you picked me up, and only decent people with feelings can feel pity."

John didn't know how to explain it hadn't been pity. He didn't know how to put his lifestyle into words that made sense, didn't know how to refute her statements without saying who he was, what he'd done, how he'd failed. He settled for, "You really don't want to know how wrong you are, Veronica. You really don't."

"I don't think I'm wrong," she answered with a careless shrug. "But even if I am, I don't care. I just know what I've seen--"

"What I've shown you," John corrected.

"--and what I've seen is a good man who's made a few mistakes and who's got a few demons on his back," she continued, as if he hasn't even interrupted her. 

"D-demons?" John's voice choked at that, trying desperately to figure out how she knew, what she was, if she was a demon herself. He found himself reaching for his gun when she clarified.

"Metaphorically speaking. The things that drive you, make you do what you do, not the literal scaly-tailed monsters."

John relaxed, but only slightly. "Sorry. Just a little edgy."

Veronica shrugged it off. "Don't have to apologize to me. We're both weird, John. You drive around with a truck full of guns and your dog tags, so I figure you're one of those Unabomber types, only without the need to blow shit up. And I'm in serious need of survival skills here, and we just happened to meet up." She gave another shrug. "But we're becoming friends, and I trust you."

"I'm not crazy."

"Never thought you were. Slightly odd, maybe, cause you were so curious about Lilly, but never crazy."

"I don't ever tell anyone this. And I don't know why I'm telling you, except for the fact you're being haunted. But that's what we do, me and my boys. We're hunters."

"And you hunt..." Veronica trailed off, waiting for him to say it.

"Evil, Veronica. Ghosts, spirits, they're only a part of it. My wife was murdered by something beyond evil when Sammy was just six months old, and I've been hunting it ever since," John confessed intently. "I'm just waiting on your ghost to show up again, and if it tries to hurt you--"

"No, Lilly's not like that," Veronica protested. "She's my best friend, she's trying to protect me. She knows you're not gonna hurt me, that's why she's not here. Don't hurt her."

John sighed. "Give me your phone."

Veronica obediently handed it over. "Why?"

John studied it a moment, figuring out how to program it, then keyed his number in with the initials JW. "If that ever changes, you call me. I'll come back and take care of it."

She waited as he put her number in his phone, then smiled at him as he gave hers back. "Can I call you anyway?"

That made John smile genuinely in return. "Yeah, if you want. That'd be nice." 

"I'm just warning you--I like to talk. A lot."

John's smile got bigger. "Good thing I like to listen." He paused. "You're really not weirded out by this whole ghost thing, are you?"

"I have more than enough problems with the living. I'm just glad the dead seem to like me." She finally sat back, reaching down to pick up the trash that'd fallen. "Besides, it's nice knowing I'm not crazy."

"Yeah... I know that feeling. Believe me." John watched as Veronica cleaned up their little rathole room, and he shook his head. Most people would've dropped the bravado by now, but not Veronica. Stubborn to the core, she was clinging onto the tough girl act as hard as she could, and was halfway succeeding. By the end of the week, he knew that hard shell would be firmly in place, never to be dislodged, and he was glad. Maybe she wasn't a Winchester, but the Mars seemed to be cut from the same tough cloth. "Ready to head back out?"

Veronica straightened her shoulders as she dumped the last of the garbage in the trash. "As I'll ever be."

=====

True to her word, Veronica had turned out to be a knife girl, not a gun girl. Wryly, she pointed out all those years of cheerleading were paying off as she flipped the knife out, thrusting and stabbing from the shoulder. 

None of the balisongs he had in the cache fit her much smaller hands, and the switchblades were too long for her fingers, but the black utility knife with the serrated edge was perfect. And she'd taken to it faster than she had the gun, so John was very pleased. 

"Okay, new plan for tomorrow," John said while they were walking Backup together. "Gun practice for a couple hours, breakfast, knife until lunch, gun again for a couple hours until dinner, then finish up with knives until nine or so."

Veronica nodded as she let Backup pull her along behind his wagging tail. "Sounds good to me. Busy, but good."

One of John's hands rested casually but obviously on Veronica's shoulders, and considering some of the double-takes and bitten tongues he'd seen, he imagined there a lot of insults not being thrown her way. Obviously more than physical skills were going to be necessary here, and John started to realize why Veronica was clinging to the tough girl act. She wasn't just stubborn--she was a survivor. And to survive in this town, she was gonna have to be thick-skinned. Suddenly his admiration rose a few notches as he got an idea of what she'd had to go through, even before... that night. 

"What would you think about a haircut?" Veronica asked, intruding on John's thoughts.

"What? I didn't think I was that shaggy," he said, running his fingers self-consciously through his hair. 

"I meant for me!" She said it with a laugh, straining to reach up and smooth out his hair where his fingers had raked through it. 

John laughed too, ducking his head before he realized it to let her fingers even out his ruffled hair. "Well, you didn't specify!"

Veronica fixed his hair, then pushed him back up. "Sorry, won't happen again. For the record, I like your hair; it suits you. A little thick, a little shaggy, makes you look all... tough. Dangerous."

The giggle that followed that was probably the most feminine thing he'd ever heard come out of Veronica's mouth. It set off about a billion different alarms in his head, because the last time someone had giggled at him like that, they'd been sitting in the backseat of a 1969 Chevrolet Impala at the drive-in and she'd become the mother of his children.

John watched without a word as Veronica got down on her knees with the large dog, who was licking and wagging his tail like an overgrown puppy. She was laughing as the dog licked her, and he shook his head. This was turning into a bad idea all the way around, but he couldn't quite bring himself to leave her alone. 

He was quiet as they walked Backup back to Veronica's apartment, and had intended to stay quiet, but Veronica broke the silence. "You never said what you thought about me getting a haircut."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "You're asking the wrong person," he said diplomatically. "I think it looks fine the way it is, but if you want to cut it, that'd look cute too. Probably should ask your dad when he gets back."

"Yeah, probably," she pouted, running her fingers through the long blonde strands. "I'll just shove it up into a ponytail until then."

"You wanna be careful with that," John warned habitually. "Somebody grabs your ponytail, they've got you. Loose hair's gonna hurt like a bitch, but you can still twist away, move around, whatever."

"So a short cut really is best." Veronica nodded to herself. "I'll just tell Dad I'm ready for a change."

John just made some noises of agreement, pulling into the motel parking lot. "How about pizza tonight?"

"Oooh, sounds good. I'll call it in and you can shower first." She scrunched her nose up in thought. "And we've got to do laundry tonight."

"I'll take care of laundry. Been doing it a long time now, think I can figure it out." John smiled, and pulled out his wallet. He gave her a twenty and a ten, and folded a five into his shirt pocket. "That should cover dinner, and I'll be back when the cycle's done and they're in the dryer."

Veronica folded the money up and put it in her pocket, then held out her hand for the room key. "I feel like I should be saluting or something," she teased as she jumped out of the truck's cab. "Hurry back, okay?"

"I will," John promised. "And hey, get one with everything on it, cause I'm hungry."

"You got it. Two large Super Supremes, stuffed crust, breadsticks, and 2 two-liter sodas are on special for $18.95."

"Yeah, that sounds good." John watched as Veronica unlocked the room and went in, coming out after a few minutes in a fluffy white robe with a canvas bag full of dirty clothes in her hands. 

"Housekeeping left plenty of clean towels and made the bed. Also, if you wanna shower first, I'll order the pizza while you're in the bathroom, and it'll be nice and hot and fresh when you come back from the laundry room," she wheedled.

John took the dirty clothes from Veronica, and tried not to notice how much smaller and more fragile she looked wrapped in the voluminous folds of white terrycloth. "Okay, yeah. Sounds good."

Veronica's answering smile was huge as she held the door open for him.

=====

John breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he closed his laptop. "There's nothing going on in the entire West Coast," he declared, looking up. "There's a couple missing people brewing in New England, but Dean's in Laramie, and he'll cover it." 

The pizza was long gone, the two soda bottles had been drained bone dry, and just in case, John had laid down salt rings and lines round the window, door, and AC unit. Veronica was curled up in bed on a big pile of pillows, watching _"The Big Lebowski"_ and John had been sitting comfortably in the chair by the bed. 

He was amused that her idea of pajamas was a pair of worn-out boxer shorts with a happy face on the crotch and a Neptune High Pirates Athletic Deparrrrrtment t-shirt. He'd expected plaid pajama bottoms at the least, but he was surprised. Veronica was always surprising him. He was comfortable himself in sweats and a USMC t-shirt, and looked over when Veronica spoke up. 

"Isn't quiet a good thing?"

John ran his fingers through his hair again as he stretched his legs out. "No. It usually means something big and bad is about to go down and that's never a good thing."

"Is there anything I can help with?"

For a long instant, John was horrified that he'd actually considered that offer seriously for more than a millisecond. "No. Best thing you can do is stay here, go live a normal life."

"If it's because I'm a girl--" Veronica started. 

"It's not. Ellen Harvelle is one of the strongest women I know and she's in the business. It's because you're seventeen, Veronica. You're seventeen and you've got a normal life that doesn't involve demons or ghosts or chasing around the country looking for revenge over something that never involved you in the first place." John was beyond firm and determined. "You've got no training--"

"So, show me. You've started already, and you said yourself I pick things up quick," Veronica interrupted pointedly. 

"What about your dad? You said yourself you couldn't imagine anything making you leave him, and but now you're wanting to go off on some damned fool hunt you're not even prepared for?" John demanded.

Veronica's face fell at that; obviously she hadn't thought of that. "I'm going to Stanford in a couple of years myself. I'll find Sam, get him to show me."

John actually laughed at that; he couldn't do anything else. "Sam went to school to escape this, why in the hell do you think he's gonna show you anything but the door?"

Veronica made a frustrated noise and punched her pillow angrily. "But I want to help you!"

"And I told you how you can do that," John countered. "By giving me one less person to worry about getting involved." Once again, he was reminded of Sam's stubbornness as he looked at Veronica's mulish expression. 

"Fine," she finally spat out, and turned on her side, putting her back to John. The TV clicked off in the middle of the movie, and the remote got tossed angrily on the empty side of the bed by John's feet. 

John didn't say anything, just moved the remote to the little table by the bed before picking up the newspaper. 

=====

Sometime in the middle of the night, John woke up to the sound of crying. He knew the source instantly, and even though Veronica's back was still to him, he reached out and pulled her in close. 

She rolled over instantly, burying her face against his chest and soaking his shirt, her fingers knotting in the warm material. She didn't say a word, barely made a sound, and John was forcibly reminded of Mary. 

During the second or third month she'd been pregnant with Dean, John had wakened in the night to Mary's sobbing. He hadn't asked what or why or even how he could make it better, just pulled her into his arms. He whispered to her how much he loved her and how beautiful she was, and just how convinced he was that she was going to be an amazing mother to the perfect little girl or boy growing inside her. 

The next morning, Mary hadn't mentioned it, and neither had John. But when he opened the lunch she'd made for him to take to work, there was a little heart-shaped note folded neatly on top of his sandwich that said simply, " _I'll always love you, John. Forever yours, MW._ "

It was that memory that made John pull Veronica completely against him, whispering quiet nonsense and stroking her hair until the crying stopped and she went back to sleep. 

John was awake the rest of the night. 

=====

By the time Veronica woke up in the morning, John's duffel was packed, the computer was in its case, and he was dressed in clean clothes with his sweats and t-shirt stuffed in the bottom of his bag. All the trash from last night's dinner was gone, and John was nowhere in sight. 

Before she could get panicked, the motel room door opened, and John came in with two cups of coffee. "Hey, Veronica. Here you go, I got you coffee."

Veronica let the blanket fall as she reached for the coffee, shoving her hair out of her face as she took a sip. "What--"

"I gotta go," he said in a rough voice. "I got gassed up while you were asleep, and brought back coffee. I'll take you home when you get dressed."

Her teeth sank in hard to her lower lip, and she sat the coffee to the side as she got out of bed. "Okay." She went to the dresser and pulled out of all her stuff, the clothes and the knife and shoved them all in the bag, taking a change of clothes into the bathroom and coming out a few minutes later with her hair in a ponytail, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, sweatshirt jacket and boots. She slid the knife in the side of one of her boots, and pulled her jeans down over it, then stuffed her clothes into the bag and zipped it up. "Ready."

He didn't meet her eyes as he finished his coffee and threw the cup away, nodding to her cup with his head. "Don't forget your coffee."

"I won't." Her voice was quiet and heartbroken, but she closed her hand around the coffee cup and carried it over to the door, where John stepped out of the way to let her pass, reaching out to take her bag as she passed by. She let him, and John tossed the bag into the truck's extended cab along with his own, and helped her carefully into the truck. 

The drive back to Veronica's apartment complex was silent and awkward, and John couldn't look at Veronica. He knew he wasn't treating her right, knew she wasn't ready to be by herself, but he had to get away from her. Especially after last night, and the way he'd woken up this morning.

Once they were parked in front of her complex, Veronica reached in the back for her bag, but John took it instead, and put it over his shoulder. Veronica just nodded and pulled her keys out of her pocket as they walked, head down and shoulders hunched over as she sorted through them, and finally slid her key into the lock. 

It clicked open and Backup bounded up to meet her, but she brushed the dog away as she turned to look at John. "Thank you. For everything." She held out her hand for the small bag of her things. 

"You're welcome." John handed her suitcase over, and followed her down the hall to her bedroom, where he leaned against the doorframe. "You're gonna be all right, Veronica."

"Yeah, I know." She opened the bag and dumped it out on her bed, throwing the dirty clothes into a corner hamper while the clean clothes went into the dresser or closet. 

John still watched her move around the bedroom like a robot, and it made his chest hurt. He reached out to touch her shoulder, and instead, spun her around to look at him, forcing himself to meet her eyes at the same time he made her meet his. Her hands came up to rest on his wrists, not shoving him away, just staring and then going limp as he pushed her back onto the bed. 

John wasn't sure what he was thinking when he kissed her. Veronica was young enough to be his daughter, young enough to be Dean or Sam's *girlfriend* and here he was in her bed, looming over her like a monster and kissing her roughly. 

It didn't help that she leaned into the kisses, her smaller arms coming around his neck and pulling him down closer, her bare body arching under the sheets as she pressed against his chest. And he couldn't help reacting; it'd been so long since Mary had been killed, and John hadn't had the time or inclination to take many other lovers. His body was starved for affection of any kind, and Veronica was giving it.

Her hands rubbed the back of his neck, short nails teasing the nape as he kissed her harder, settling over her and resting his weight on his elbows. His hands carded through her long hair, pulling her up to meet him, groaning softly at the soft, pliant skin under his touch. 

"Please, John," she whispered softly, pulling her mouth away and pressing it to his ear. She didn't say anything else, just let her hands move further down his back, pulling at the flannel shirt over his shoulders and pushing it down to yank at his t-shirt. 

"You sure?" he asked, stroking her hair softly and feeling his belly lurch at her tiny fingers undressing him. 

"Yeah, I'm sure," she answered, with a little shake of her head. "You know... I'm not a virgin, it's okay."

John groaned again, kissing her again and wrapping her in his arms. "That's why I'm asking, honey," he said urgently as he rocked his hips against her. 

"No, I know, I wanna... at least pretend that what I can remember is what actually happened, for a little while at least," she admitted. "And I wanna remember you." 

"Christ." John's stomach lurched again, for an entirely different reason, as every urge he'd been pushing down to go out and kill people in this town raised its head again. "I'll be gentle, Veronica. I'll make sure that you've got something beautiful to remember."

"As long as it’s you, I know it will be," Veronica answered. "I’m not afraid of you."

"You should be." John kissed her silent again, soft and reverent as his tongue licked and teased at her lips. When they parted, he moaned softly when Veronica’s tongue slid across his.

Her hands had finally shoved his t-shirt up out of the way, and her fingertips dragged lightly over his skin. Veronica’s fingers paused over every scar and she squirmed under John.

Well aware of everything, John stopped immediately when he felt Veronica moving, and pulled away from her entirely. He wasn’t going to force anything on her, no matter how much she said she wanted it. "Veronica?"

She didn’t stop until John had rolled uncertainly onto his back, and Veronica scooted in close to him. "I was just thinking," she said quietly, eyes on the faded marks from long ago. "How much it had to hurt, losing your wife, and then all these too." Leaning over, Veronica pressed her lips to a bullet scar from his Marine days. "But even through all the hurt… you pushed on." Another kiss to another scar. "Raised your kids alone." More kisses to more scars. "Took on a thankless job that nobody will ever know about." Her tongue licked over a faded set of claw marks. "And you still haven’t given up hope for all the rest of us. You do so much to make our world safe, and nobody knows it. Thank you, John." Veronica rested her hand on John’s stomach as she kissed him again, less tentatively than before.

John barely heard what she was saying because her mouth felt like a firebrand against the dead skin of his scars. The softly-spoken "thank you" caught his attention more than anything else, and for some reason that touched him deeper than the rest of what she’d said. His arms wrapped around Veronica tightly at the kiss, and he let her rest against his chest.

Christ, he was gonna have to get out and soon, because his fingers were stroking through Veronica’s blonde hair and it made him remember the scent of sunflower and vanilla that clung to Mary’s pillowcases after her showers. 

But all John could smell was the artificial coconut of the motel’s cheap shampoo and the barest hint of heat and musk as Veronica stayed pressed against him. Her mouth still tasted like coffee and sugar, and all thoughts of Mary were erased when Veronica’s hand started to unzip his jeans.

Veronica gave softly pleased little cries as John’s tongue licked in her mouth, teasing her as he stroked her hair tenderly, but almost obsessively. She whimpered quietly, moving closer and nudging his legs with hers, but his hands didn’t try and move. Veronica realized quickly that John was letting her set the pace, and once she realized that, she took a deep breath and reached for his zipper.

John let her ease it open, then carefully rolled her over. His hands framed her face, pushing her hair out of the way as he touched her gently. "Veronica, are you sure? You want this?"

In answer, Veronica half-sat up in bed, arms and head twisting as she peeled all her layers off at once, leaving just her bra covering her chest. "Yeah, I’m sure," she answered, trying hard but not quite able to keep the quaver out of her voice. "I want to have this. I want *you.* I want to make love with you before I never see you again." She couldn’t help the babbling confession. "I want to pretend that you’re my white knight, that you stopped them all from hurting me, pretend that I still have that first time to give you because that’s what *I* want to do. I don’t want to think about what got taken, I want to pretend it’s still mine to give, and I want to give it to you, John Winchester."

John groaned, kissing her roughly and deeply, holding her tightly as he could without hurting her. One hand slid over her chest, pushing each cup of her bra out of the way before opening the clasp. Each breast was the perfect handful, filling his palm exactly. His thumbs stroked the nipples gently, his mouth working down her neck.

Veronica lifted her hips, intending to pull her jeans down, but her head fell back with a gasp when John groaned against her throat. "Fuck, Veronica."

Her eyes went wide and she froze, half-arched. "Did I—?"

"Do it again," John pled softly, one hand leaving her chest to rest lightly on her hip. "Rub, right there."

She realized then what she’d done and arched against him again. His hand guided her just a little, and she was rewarded when John groaned loudly again. 

The second rub was even more pleasurable than the first had been, because John’s hand shifted her just a little. His cock was achingly hard, and the pressure of her body pressed against him was nearly orgasmic. "Oh, God, that’s good."

"Help me get naked," she pled, keeping herself lifted and sliding her hands down John’s arms to grip his wrists and bring them to the last of her clothing. "Please?"

The please did him in, and John’s hands quickly opened and removed Veronica’s jeans. Her panties were next, and John pulled them off more slowly than the pants. 

Veronica shivered at the loss of her underwear, unable to stop a single repulsed shudder. "Oh, God."

"Veronica?" John’s voice was a harsh pant, full of concern as he loomed over her.

"Just make it go away, John. Please, make it go away," she begged. "Please, get it out of my head, I want you there instead."

"I will, I promise," he said softly, grunting as he shifted to rest between her legs. His fingers teased her first, finding her wet and slick. "Veronica?"

Her eyes opened, slightly teary but focusing on John. "Yeah?"

He smiled reassuringly. "I just wanted you to see this," he murmured calmingly, delving into his wallet quickly and coming out with a condom. "So you know what you’re feeling."

She swallowed hard and nodded, scooting up on her elbows to watch curiously. Her eyes widened as John slid the condom on over his cock. "Oh my God," she breathed. "That’s huge."

John couldn’t stop the proud chuckle. "Don’t worry, I know how to use it," he bragged teasingly.

Shivering again, she licked her lips. "I just bet you do." Reaching out cautiously, Veronica’s fingers wrapped around John’s latex-covered cock and stroked once. The slick rubber slid easily against her fist and she leaned back, satisfied. "Will you be inside me?"

John groaned softly. "Anything you want," he promised, moving back over her. He brought his cock even with her entrance, and paused one last time. Veronica’s eyes met his, and there was no doubt or regret, just eagerness, trust, heat, and something John couldn’t or wouldn’t name but it sent warmth flooding his belly as he pushed inside.

Veronica moaned softly, whimpering as John’s cock stretched her willing body open. Slow, easy thrusts pushed him deeper until suddenly the tightness gave way and she opened entirely. His cock slid deeply in one stroke, and John’s lips pressed against hers to quiet the whimpers. 

"So brave, baby," John cooed softly, petting her air and keeping her gathered tightly against his chest. 

"Feels so good," she moaned, her hips making fumbling attempts to catch his rhythm. Spread impossibly wide and filled to the hilt, Veronica was swimming in sensation and trying to sort out and feel everything at once.

John swelled with pride, and he moved faster against her, reaching down to guide her. "Move with me," he murmured, showing her just what to do. "Move with me, let me in, gonna feel even better when we hit that----aaah," he growled, feeling Veronica’s sheath tighten around him as she found their pace. "Attagirl."

Veronica gave a breathless little sob as John growled, feeling the pace shift as she found it, moving with him and feeling him push just a little deeper than before. Her moans grew louder with each one of John’s thrusts, and her arms wrapped around his neck as she panted.

John’s hands left Veronica’s body entirely and pressed into the mattress, gripping the bed hard so that the tight grip didn’t bruise Veronica’s skin. He moved his mouth back to her neck, kissing her softly and then harder as she pulled him down, his teeth nipping sharply.

The bite made her cry out, arching her back to press against John’s chest as her legs lifted to wrap around his waist. "Yes, please," she begged softly, fingers sliding into his hair and holding tightly. 

John nipped her neck again, careful not to leave any marks that couldn’t be hidden as he rocked his hips faster, encouraging her to move too. "Don’t be shy," he persuaded softly, tilting his head just a little in invitation. 

Veronica lifted up, pushing up on her elbows as she kissed John’s throat, panting softly at the groan he gave in answer. She kissed again, sucking on his throat just as he’d done to her, and she gasped at the hard thrust she got in answer.

Emboldened, she let her fingertips drag down John’s back, short nails not leaving marks as she pulled herself up closer, breasts chafing against the hair on his chest as her mouth moved to his.

John’s tongue pushed almost instantly into Veronica’s mouth, hands leaving the mattress and moving back to her chest, teasing her nipples again until they hardened, feeling her squeeze around him with each rub. "Pretty girl, so responsive," he encouraged again. "Love it when I touch you, don’t you, Veronica?"

"So good," she groaned out in answer, her head falling back against the pillow as John’s hand stroked over her stomach, thumb rubbing slow little circles around her navel. "God, gonna kill me, love every second though, just what I wanted and needed."

"That’s what I wanna hear," he murmured, breathing hard in her mouth and moving his hand lower to rub over her clit. 

Veronica’s entire body jolted like she’d been shocked when John’s fingers touched her clit. She thrust harder against his cock, squeezing him harder with every thrust as he pressed his thumb against the little bud, feeling it throb. 

John was careful not to hurt her as he teased her clit, pressing and rubbing carefully as she pulled him in deeper. "That’s it, gonna make you feel so good, Veronica, promise," he growled again, licking her ear and sucking the lobe gently, his tongue teasing over the little piercing hole.

It was too much for Veronica and she came blindingly hard, her body stiffening and locking up as she called out John’s name. 

John bit down hard on the cursing that wanted to slip out as he felt Veronica’s already-tight sheath clamping harder around his cock. Each thrust was harder than the next, and John didn’t make five more before he was coming hard, shuddering and holding tightly to Veronica, keeping her against his chest.

Exhausted by the intensity of the orgasm, Veronica curled up to John and after a few softly whispered words, fell asleep against his side.

_Thank you so much, John. There’s not another man like you in the world, is there?_

John didn’t let himself fall asleep, as much as he wanted to. He waited until Veronica was soundly resting, then carefully pulled himself out of her, kissing her cheek softly before getting dressed and slipping silently out the front door.

=====

Veronica woke hours later alone in her bed. The warmth from John’s body was almost entirely gone, and the only thing left behind was a blue flannel button-down, folded neatly into a pillow and placed right by her head. Smiling to herself, Veronica ran her fingers over the collar of the shirt and smiled, gathering it up beside her to rest her cheek on.

=====

The last time Veronica had actually heard John's voice, it was a voicemail message, saying that if the caller were in trouble, to call John's son Dean--who she felt she knew from his stories--and Dean could help. 

She'd hung up then, and hadn't tried again for a few months, when she called John's number again, still in her speed dial after nearly four years. 

"Hello? Who's this?" demanded a man's voice, young, but not gruff and definitely not John Winchester. 

"I'm sorry, I must have the wrong number, I'm looking for John Winchester? My name's Veronica. Veronica Mars."

There was a scuffle on the other end of the phone, and a low hum of words being swiftly exchanged before a second person came on the line. This voice was softer, slightly more masculine, and it reminded her oddly of John's. "Veronica? This is Sam--"

"You're John's son," she said, surprised. "He talked about you a lot; you're going to Stanford, right? Can I talk to him?"

"I was, yeah, um... Veronica, when was the last time you talked to Dad?" Sam's voice was full of uncertainty. 

"About..." she considered. "Six or seven months ago, I guess. I called awhile back and got his voicemail, said to call Dean if anything was wrong. I just haven't heard from him in awhile and I was wondering if he's okay."

"Veronica..." There was silence on the other end of the line for a very long moment. "Dad's dead. He died after a car accident… an eighteen-wheeler hit the car we were all in." 

"Oh. Oh God." Veronica bit her lip hard, determined not to cry in front of John's son. "Okay. What... no, thank you. I'm sorry, Sam." She hung up quickly, then closed the door of her bedroom as she curled up on the bed and cried.

The End


End file.
